Adjustment
by Celestinasong
Summary: Complete: What if everything you knew disappeared? Sylar and Peter get sucked into another dimension and things are not what they would expect. Slash Peter and Sylar.
1. Chapter 1

Adjustment Chapter 1

By Chezaswulf

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.

Author's Note: I am editing this fic. It's really weird how more than fifty people read this according to my traffic stats, and at least twenty finished it and only one person reviewed. Tell me what you think! It tells me what needs improvement and what you like ^.^ please?

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><p>Sylar woke up with a migraine that made him cringe back into the pillow under his head. He groaned in agony and clutched his forehead. Then he sat up and realized that there was something jutting out of the front of his head, not causing, but certainly adding to the pain. Gently he pried it from his skin with practiced ease, and glanced down at the long rusty nail in his hand. For a moment the blood squirted out at an alarming rate, and then stopped suddenly. Sylar glanced down at his body to where a mixture of tears and blood stains mingled, making it look like he'd been through a war. He had two shirts on so he slipped the top layer off, and stretched. Then he stepped down off of the bed, and encountered something besides the wood floor.<p>

When he glanced down at the ground he was not surprised to find the bleeding man on the floor. Sylar looked around at the small dirty room, full of rags and one bed. It was not where he had expected to wake up. Then he remembered how he had gotten there, and tried to reexamine his situation. Before that he had to deal with the body.

"Peter," Sylar said, irritably.

Peter's face was towards the bed, but Sylar knew him by his long hair cut and profile which he somehow had not forgotten. The other man was tied to Syler in more ways than one, but the complications only created a strange sort of black hole inside of Sylar. There was nothing to give, and therefore the connection was null and void. Yet Peter had followed him. At a loss, Sylar poised himself and kicked Peter.

Peter didn't cry out, to Sylar's disappointment. Sylar scowled at the unconscious man before pulling him over onto his back. Peter was deathly pale.

Syalr stared at him, fascinated by the site of Peter Petrelli looking so vulnerable. He was the one person Sylar knew could kill him. Since the time they had first met, Sylar knew that Peter was a problem for him. It was almost inconceivable that Peter was weakened, an insult. Sylar had expected some kind of reaction, preferably a fight, and he was determined to get one. Even now he was not sure how to deal with Peter any other way.

The night before Sylar had been looking for something, for peace of mind perhaps, he wasn't sure. After killing his newest victim, he had gone out walking. It had been a huge mistake, but he hadn't been thinking. Sylar knew that his face was like a magnet for trouble and he loved the fear in other people's eyes. It didn't occur to him that there were many ways to be attacked, and the fact that he couldn't die meant that he had to protect his identity. It was beginning to dawn on him that he should try to have a healthy fear of retaliation, and of those with unknown gifts were a wild card, capable of anything.

Then to top it off he got distracted, and bumped into an old enemy. Peter had been out saving lives as any good boy would be, and of course Sylar ended up standing on the sidelines. He hadn't meant to watch him but he had been drawn to that sympathetic expression in Peter's face.

Was it Nathan inside him, trying to reach out to his brother?

Sylar was struck with the temptation to kill those people as they bled to death in the traffic accident. Instead he stood by and watched as Peter used his powers to cheat death over and over. Sylar rolled his eyes and decided to leave. It was at that moment that Peter met his eyes across the distance, catching Sylar like a fish on a line. The strange connection was still strong, jerking him around.

Fear was not an emotion Sylar was used to feeling, but Peter's ability mirrored his, and Sylar was not positive if he could win a straight fight with the other man. When Peter took a hesitant step forward, Sylar used his telekinesis to lift himself into the air. It was easy to go so fast that the people around him didn't notice, except for Peter, who stared up at him when he landed on the roof. Peter didn't move, letting Sylar turn around and go without any provocation. Sylar didn't want to be out anymore, and it wasn't worth getting involved with the Petrelli's again. They weren't normal.

Sylar left Peter there, staring up at him with a dangerous curiosity. Peter was like a puppy, just a little too trusting and always under his feet. Sylar almost felt sorry for him, after all he had been through with his family. It could destroy anybody. Peter was a little too pathetic even with all his powers.

Sylar didn't generally worry about other people following him so he didn't notice the middle aged stranger until he was almost home. The road was quiet, dark, and he paused before he crossed the street to his apartment. There was somebody in the alley breathing heavily, his heart beating at an uneven rate, a sound that Sylar had heard before, in his own heart. When the man stepped out into the dim light, Sylar sneered and turned to face him.

He approached Sylar and his face contorted with anger beneath his short beard. His irregular heartbeat quickened as they moved closer. It began to drizzle, and the noise was belting at Sylar's eardrums.

"May I help you?" Sylar asked, acidly.

"Yes, you can die!"

"I think not," Sylar responded, too arrogant to realize the danger.

"Sylar! I'm going to avenge all those innocent lives you've taken!" The man growled, his beard soaked with spit. His blue eyes were wild and bright, as though he were not all there.

"Are you? I hope you know it's not that easy." Sylar smiled.

"I know, that's why I'll send you far away… Someplace where you can never escape!" The man announced, melodramatically.

The man's sudden jolt of power hit like a twister, and flashes of green light filled the air. Another person rushed out into the street, looking wildly around. Sylar glanced at the second man who had followed him there and realized it was Peter, his hair whipping.

"What are you doing here?" Sylar asked.

"I was following you!" Peter yelled, gesturing around, as if this made sense.

"Obviously!" Sylar shouted. "Why the hell...?"

The lashing wind picked them up, and pulled them into the looming black spiral that sucked them in with a sound like water down a drain. Sylar and Peter screamed as their bodies folded and bent to suck them into a funnel and down into the blackness.

End of Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

Adjustment Chapter 2

By Chezaswulf

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.

Author's Note: Hope you like.

Sylar saw the city that had once been in his mind's eye, even as he looked out at the gravel and ruin of what lay before him. They had somehow ended up inside a small shack that stood within the ruins of New York City. The wooden hovels were built all around, and some places that had been cleared of the mess to make way for the survivors. Only one small building stood in the horizon, and it was obviously newly constructed. Sylar peered at it in the distance.

Just then Peter groaned, and turned over. He awoke with a cough, and rolled onto his side before sitting up. Peter rubbed his back where Sylar had kicked him, looking pained.

"Sylar?" Peter gasped, rushing to stand. He must have had a migraine as well because he sat back down with a thud and held his forehead.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Sylar said, sarcastically.

He turned a leering smile at Peter as he tried to stand again. Then he leaned back against the small shack's window to watch Peter shift uncomfortably from one leg to the other, searching for an escape route in the small box of a room.

"What ...did he do to us?" Peter asked, running both hands through his hair. His serious expression was almost touching.

"He sent us on a little trip," Sylar said, with a laugh. He was actually enjoying playing cat and mouse with Peter, but for now he was more concerned with the place they were now trapped in.

"Who was that man?" Peter asked, his eyes wide and accusing.

"He was a brother of a victim of mine. I was going to kill him but you interrupted, and now here we are! You really have great timing," Sylar said, raising his hands as if to present the room to Peter.

"Is this the future?" Peter asked, looking out the window behind Sylar.

"I don't think so. This newspaper here is dated correctly..." Sylar said, lifting the crinkled paper and allowing sections to fall. They both wondered who lived there, and where they were.

Peter began to pace the room like a caged lion, and Sylar watched him. The hunger, the urge to kill hit, and Sylar allowed it to cross his mind. Peter was always wielding some fascinating power, but alas the one he brought there was flying, and Sylar didn't particularly need that ability. Besides he could always attack later. For now Sylar and Peter had a problem that made them temporary allies together, or maybe just victims. Sylar recalled the helplessness of being tossed into that black twisting funnel in thin air, and had to push back his horror.

Peter was inching toward the door, and Sylar watched him go outside lazily. It was an amusing distraction to him that Peter was so afraid. The sickly shade of green on his face was still lingering, and Sylar followed him slowly out into the back yard of the tiny shack.

"Don't come any closer!" Peter ordered, his voice shaking.

Peter was looking more ill by the second. Just when Sylar thought the other man would run, Peter made a funny noise in his throat and began vomiting. Sylar tilted his head at the unpleasant sounds and smell, and smiled. He stepped back though, averse to getting any of the puke on his clothes. He was nothing if not neat, and the idea of a drop on him was deplorable. Thanks to Claire's power Sylar had not vomited in a long time, and did not miss the sensation.

Peter wiped his mouth from his spot where he knelt beside a dying bush. The look of disgust on his face made Sylar snort. They must have been through something very bad, because they were both still reeling from the affect on their bodies. Or Peter was. Sylar had already regenerated completely after waking up, at least his body had.

Sylar glanced around the dark and dirty street full of rickety boxes, and emptiness all around them. With his power he could hear people far away, but not animals or insects. Above them the sky was a strange, rusted color as if the clouds were full of dirt. The explosion must have been relatively recent.

"I wonder if anybody is alive out there?" Peter asked, following Sylar's gaze.

"Oh they're there. The ones that survived. I imagine there are plenty with gifts left too," Sylar said, allowing Peter to take the implications as they were.

"Wait! Don't you want to find the man that did this to us? He must be alive here somewhere! Who was he?" Peter asked.

"He was a brother of somebody I killed, who caught me in the act. I know his last name is Gregory, but that's all. I don't really feel like trying to get back. The odds of finding him again are very small."

"You're just giving up? Don't you have things you want to do back there? People you want to see...?" Peter's voice drifted off as Sylar raised his eyebrows skeptically at him.

"I would be doing the same thing there as I intend to do here," Sylar said, in his silky murderous voice.

"What, kill everyone?" Peter asked, face wrinkling in rage.

"Yes... I do like to kill. Of course, the idea of making the pain last might be fun too. Should I draw it out? Torture them? You see Peter, I enjoy killing. I don't make it last long, because I don't really like to waste my time. But if you want to come I can show you something really good," Sylar invited.

"You're a psychopath!" Peter spat out. "I stopped you once."

"Yes, but not alone. You have plenty of help last time, didn't you?" Sylar pointed out, happily.

"You can't do this, Sylar!" Peter argued, desperately.

"Watch me!" Sylar said over his shoulder.

He didn't look back while he walked away, because he knew Peter was still reeling from the strange shifting they had done to get here. Sylar was certain that with only flight Peter couldn't stop him right now.

However, Peter could follow him, and that's exactly what he did. No matter how far Sylar walked he always heard the tell tale sound of foot steps just behind him. They walked through the dilapidated city, past the place where the Chrysler building should have been, and where the Statue of Liberty's feet still stood, cut off just above the ankle. The water was there, but it looked almost black, unnatural.

Sylar kept moving until he reached a busier area, where there was food and drinking water being passed out. Bread was being traded for whatever trinkets could be found. People were ragged, desperately thin and dirty. It was not a pretty sight, and it seemed that whatever had happened here, the people were still going to tough it out, instead of moving on to a place outside of the zone of destruction.

It was odd to see the places he had once been so familiar with gone, but Sylar didn't mind it. The scene of mass chaos was pleasing to him, since he hated the people who had work, lived, and breathed there. They were all gone, and it made him relax. They were gone, all except the strong. The survivors were more likely to have powers than the ones that died. That meant Sylar would eventually find a talented individual ready to be sacrificed on his imaginary alter. He could smell the scent of old blood and death in the air everywhere and it made him excited. His blood was thrumming for the kill.

Sylar knew he would have to get away from Peter first. It was important that he not be obvious and get interrupted. Peter was all about saving people, and Sylar was always on the run. But now he and Peter were alone in a world full of people who didn't know what had just arrived. It was like falling into a pasture full of sheep, waiting to be killed. Sylar just had to find his opportunity.

End of Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

Adjustment Chapter 3

By Chezaswulf

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.

Author's Note: I hope you like, please review.

Peter followed Sylar, on edge, watching him like a hawk. Peter could go on like this for longer than most people, but he knew eventually he would have to take care of the necessities of life. His head was still pounding from the force of the pull they had experienced, almost like he had a hangover. No, it was worse than that. Peter felt the pain in his bones, and it was very unpleasant. Sylar seemed unaffected, but of course he had power of regeneration so he must have felt it at some point.

Peter thought they had walked for three hours, but couldn't be sure. They were slowly moving further from the center of whatever had hit the city, and the destruction was gradually becoming less pronounced. His watch was broken and the sky was a strange color, so he didn't know if it was day or night. After what seemed like forever, Sylar turned into a busier area, and Peter got nervous. The people were more abundant, and some of them were wearing masks and cleaning away the debris. Others were working in an extended hospital tent full of shouting doctors and harried looking nurses. It was a refreshingly bright scene compared to the dark and dingy place where Peter and Sylar had woken up.

Peter watched Sylar glance around, from the hospital to the road where the buildings, which had survived the explosion, stood proudly. Peter wondered distantly if someone with powers had caused the explosion. It reminded him of the raging power to explode, and being helpless to stop it. However, he wasn't sure if he trusted Sylar's assumption that there were people with powers here. Wherever they had been sent may not be what they thought. Not only was it the same date but it was also the same place. Yet the stark differences from the New York he knew were clear. Peter could have kicked himself for following Sylar, of all people, into this mess. The strange look on Sylar's face had drawn Peter somehow. It was as though Sylar was lonely and desperate, but Peter knew that couldn't be true. Sylar didn't really express much besides a lust for blood, hate, and anger.

As Peter watched Sylar from behind he noticed they seemed to be wandering aimlessly, as if Sylar was trying to take in the scenery. Peter had to admit it was eerie to see the mess New York was in. They walked and walked, and then finally they got to the rest of the city that had survived. Sylar led him to an area where many families lived and stepped into a busy store. Peter rushed in after him but Sylar had already disappeared into the large crowd of people. Peter tried to push through and catch up to him, but it was too late. Sylar had turned the corner down the first aisle.

Peter cursed, drawing some frowns from the patrons and clerks. He went down the first aisle and then every aisle of the store. After ten more minutes of desperate searching, he accepted the fact that Sylar was gone. Peter checked the street earnestly for him. He even took to the air and continued to look but to no avail. Sylar knew his one trick, and had planned for that. Now Peter was alone and afraid, worried about what he had unwittingly unleashed into an unprepared place and time.

Peter leaned on the wall of the alley he had landed in, and felt the powerlessness overwhelm him. He was useless, always getting in the way of his family, and friends. His power and his ability to save others was as always turning out to be a disappointment, just as Peter had always been. His family always prized Nathan as the golden child. Peter was always desperate for affection and approval, and never got any. All of their attention was always narrowed in on his older brother. Now Peter stood alone and lost, and disappointed in himself more than he had ever been. How could he lose Sylar? The man was tall and stood out in a crowd easily, and every move he made was deadly. Peter cursed himself, then kicked off the wall and began to walk again not really thinking about where he was headed. Peter made his way to a place that seemed comfortable. Then after a while it began to look familiar. Peter glanced up and recognized his own street, realizing that his part of the city was still there.

Peter stared in shock at the sign and the deli on the corner, all too recognizable. Was this really the same street? Peter continued on, still looking around wide-eyed. He made it to the building, frame of red brick and wood, with green faded paint on the doors. Holding his breath Peter put his hand in his pocket and found the key, still in there. Slipping it into the lock felt as normal as if he were really home. Some of his misery slipped a little out of reach, and he felt lighter.

The door creaked opened, and Peter stepped in, his heart pounding. The light in the hall was flickering and the walls looked cracked and more worn than before. Peter knew it was the reaction of the blast, and the building had been just beyond the limit of the damage. It was all the same though, and Peter moved warily, searching for Sylar or somebody that might be there waiting for him. Upstairs he thought it was too quiet, and the floor was puckering but otherwise it looked right. Then he got to his door and leaned into it to listen for anybody that might be in there. Peter recognized the mat he had bought, and knew this had to be his.

The door groaned more loudly than the one downstairs, and Peter froze there waiting for some reaction from inside. Then when there was none Peter moved in cautiously. The place was all perfect, an exact copy of his own apartment back home. The only thing that wasn't right was the pair of shoes he saw just inside the door. They were patent leather, and obviously expensive. Peter never wore those type of shoes, outside of special occasions. He looked around, wary.

When he reached the kitchen the bathroom door down the hall opened and a man stepped out, damp but dressed in a button down shirt and slacks. Peter turned to face him as the man approached.

Peter's jaw dropped in alarm and anger at the man in his apartment.

However what he wanted to say was cut off as a wet body hit his and a warm mouth covered his own. Too shocked to react, Peter froze, horrified and very confused. The man was very excited to see him. His tongue seemed to be fine tuned to pleasing Peter's mouth, and the other man was a pro at it. Finally Peter managed to get his body into action and push the man away, his head spinning.

"You bastard! What are you doing, Sylar!" Peter yelled, wiping his mouth.

"Pete? What the- ?" The man who looked like Sylar looked at him closely. Peter had to back away to get space from him. The man gasped. "Where's your scar?"

Something wasn't right, why was Sylar acting as if he hadn't just run away from Peter?

"Don't call me that! Only Nathan can call me that!" Peter said, scrambling back against the cabinets and knocking over a cup. He was breathing hard, seeing a face that so often caused terror and anger, and an adrenaline rush like you wouldn't believe. Peter couldn't believe Sylar just kissed him. He was going to be sick again.

"You're not my Pete," the man whispered, staring at Peter in realization.

His dark eyes were jumping across Peter's face, as though something was missing. Peter met his gaze trying to be brave, even though all he wanted to do with defend himself or run.

"What the fuck is going on? Is this one of your sick mind games,_ Sylar_?" Peter asked.

"Please don't- I don't go by that anymore... call me Gabriel," Gabriel explained, patiently. His face was slightly red and flustered. His hair hung wet and long on his cheek, glowing brown under the kitchen light. The look of embarrassment mingled with desire on the other man's face made Peter pause. The man's general appearance was enough to make Peter come to his senses a little at a time.

Compared to the man that he had just been with, this man was clearly a normal person. There was nothing of the deranged killer in this guy's posture or speech. Peter opened his mouth, closed it again, and tried to get his bearings. Anybody who knew Sylar knew that he was unable to hide his blood lust and his unstable personality. This man was looking Peter in the eye with a calm expression, and almost welcoming warmth in his face.

"You're not... Sylar?" Peter asked, slowly as if chewing on something tough. "Where the hell am I?"

"You aren't from the past? Did you use Hiro's power to get here?" Gabriel asked, gesturing around with one hand as if to demonstrate time travel. They stared at each other, trying to get a grip on the situation, because Peter was seconds away from punching him and Gabriel seemed to understand that fact.

"So, you do have powers here...? No, something else happened. A man sent us in some sort of portal. He was mad at Sylar for killing his brother, and I happened to be following him," Peter said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Happened to follow him, huh?" Gabriel said, with a strange smirk. He looked at Peter for a long moment, his eyes lingering in ways that made Peter very uncomfortable. Peter looked away.

"Look, I came here with Sylar, but he got away. I mean I was trying to keep track of him, but the guy's a bit slippery. He knows I only have the power to fly right now so he has the advantage. I have to find him before he kills again," Peter explained.

Gabriel's face became worried as he listened, and he glanced away, deep in thought. Then a pained look washed over his expression and he looked back at Peter. He was almost unrecognizably nice.

"If I- I mean ... If Sylar is as dangerous as I was back before I met Pete, I guess he must be even worse now, huh?" Gabriel asked.

"Yeah, he's killed more people than I can count. He's taken so many powers, I can't even keep track of how many he has," Peter said, grimly.

"Damn. This is a problem." Gabriel said, solemnly.

"You're telling me," Peter agreed.

"Let me finish getting ready and I will follow you. We can look for Pete first, because if Sylar finds Pete, and Pete thinks it's me..." Gabriel cut himself off and walked to the bathroom to finish drying his hair. Peter listened to the man rushing around, feeling like he had just been sucker punched.

Gabriel brought Peter a white and blue yankees cap and Peter looked down at it.

"What's this for?" Peter asked, glancing back up at Gabriel who was studying him curiously.

"That's for you, to wear. Nobody will understand if they see you, without the scar, so I would like to avoid questions, if possible," Gabriel explained apologetically.

"Ok, sure. No problem," Peter said with a shrug.

"Good," Gabriel said with a smile. It was a happy expression that caught Peter off guard. Gabriel was examining Peter's face a little too closely.

"Can I ask you a question?" Peter said, hesitantly. "What happened to make you stop killing?"

"I suppose you did, Peter. Or Pete did. Anyway, he saved my life. After that I just healed, with help of course," Gabriel shrugged. "My life was not that great, but that's no excuse for going off on people. I just got sick of killing because it didn't help me feel better, you know?"

"Wow. I just can't believe you're the same person. He's really dark, you know?" Peter said, pulling his hat down to almost cover his eyes.

"Did you want to help him?" Gabriel asked. "Is that why you followed him?"

"No, I just... didn't know what else to do. He was watching me rescue these people from a car crash. I thought he looked strange," Peter explained. "It's a long story."

"It's good that you were brought here then," Gabriel said.

"I'm glad one of us thinks so," Peter said, shrugging. Peter followed Gabriel out the door.

End of Chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

Adjustment Chapter 4

By Chezaswulf

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.

Author's Note: Hey thanks for the adds and reviews. Constructive criticism welcome.

Sylar had been able to shake Peter off just by changing his appearance in the moment that he turned the corner. A young girl stared at him from her perch in a shopping cart, but otherwise nobody had even noticed him change. Sylar watched Peter scramble to find him, and moved casually out of the way. It was almost a joke how easily he had escaped. Then he went out, and began to back track through the city, trying to use his outlandish hearing for a hint of the extraordinary. Sylar was on edge waiting for any sign. Yet after waiting half the night, he didn't pick up anything.

It was just a matter of time. Sylar slowed his pace, and made it back to the area where the white tent stood. It was overwhelmed with patients, with few nurses and less doctors to care for them. Sylar peered in from his spot in the darkest side of the tent. He wanted to see, out of some sick curiosity. It was like the pain allowed him to relax and center himself. Watching death made him happy. Although it had always been like that he had never had so much time to dwell on it then he had that day. Now he was stuck and there was nothing else to do but watch people die. A woman deep inside the tent was crying.

Just as he was about to turn away someone walked by the opening of the tent. The man was clearly very busy.

"Dr. Petrelli! We need you," a woman called.

Sylar froze and glanced over at the man again. At that moment the man in the white coat looked up and met Sylar's gaze.

"Get Dr. Smith in, I have to take a break," Peter said over his shoulder.

Sylar watched as Peter lay a stethoscope around his neck and put a file down on table, before leaving the tent. Peter bridged the distance between them and as he moved closer Sylar began to feel a sense of eerie deija vu.

"Sylar. I was wondering when you'd get here. My shift ended hours ago, but I stayed to wait," Peter said, his eyes taking Sylar with an intense stare.

"Your face," Sylar said, rudely.

"That's right, my scar. I forget that it's there sometimes, until someone asks," Peter said. The deep jagged line crossed his face and looked like it must have hurt. Peter's eyes were clear and focused on Sylar, and he realized he had never noticed what a mixture of greens and browns they were. In some places they were almost gold.

Peter gestured for Sylar to follow him to a small spot where a bench stood. It was old but still sturdy, and Peter sat on the left side. Sylar didn't join him, but stood stiffly a few feet away, studying the man in a calculated fashion.

"This is very unexpected," Sylar said.

"I saw this in a vision. Or you could say, I drew this scene, exactly like this." Peter sighed, and pulled at the ponytail behind his head. "You're Sylar. You shouldn't be here, yet here you are. I wish I could say I was glad to meet you."

"You know me?" Sylar asked, uncertainly. This was Peter Petrelli... but not. This man was like a different version of the same man. This Peter wore a suit under the white coat, and it was definitely a tailored one. The watch he wore was unmistakeable, a Rolex. Damn.

"Well, not exactly. I met you once a long time ago. You know of me, don't you?" Peter asked.

"Peter Petrelli," Sylar said, glancing around as though expecting a fight.

"You can call me Pete," Pete said with a simple smile.

"I know you, but you were a nurse or something. You have the power to fly." Sylar said, hoping for some response to that.

"A nurse? Huh," Peter said, as though this was strange but not completely undesirable. "How did you get here is what I wondered when I drew this."

"That's not important," Sylar said, sneering.

Sylar shifted away, not liking this unpleasant surprise. "Pete" didn't look scared or worried about Sylar's being there at all, which meant he knew something was going to happen to stop him or knew he could protect himself. Sylar didn't like being taken off guard by this new Peter, and he was not about to distract himself from his real mission. He needed to go hunting.

"I want to help you," Pete said, his eyes earnest, trying to hold Sylar's attention.

Sylar was caught off guard, and didn't know what to say, so he laughed. It was the hardest he had ever laughed in a long time. He found he couldn't stop the flow once it started, as hysteria bubbled up unbidden. The people in the tent quieted at the roaring laughter.

"You! You of all people, should know!" Sylar said, his eyes tearing. He clutched his stomach and put both hands on his knees as he rocked with laughter. "I cannot... be _helped_."

Pete shook his head, but said nothing. He leaned forward on the edge of the seat, determined. Sylar smiled bitterly down at him, full of hate. It was infuriating to hear this from someone he didn't really know. The other Peter knew better than to try to trick or taunt him, but he would teach this man to be more careful. Sylar fell silent slowly, as the humor left him and the emotional outburst seemed never to have happened. He stood so still that Pete blinked to see if there was a change. Sylar wasn't even looking at him anymore. His face was forming some question or other, thinking.

Just then a gust of wind hit the alley and two people touched down to the ground. There was the Peter he knew in a white and blue cap, and another man, who Sylar faced with a look of wariness. It was a version of himself he had never become, a happy man.

"Sylar! What do you want here? Leave these people alone!" Peter yelled.

"Please wait, he didn't do anything! Just let him go," Pete interrupted, standing beside the other Peter as though it were completely natural. Gabriel stood beside Pete, hand on his shoulder, but eyes watching Sylar with dismay and something like regret.

"Let him go?" Gabriel asked.

"Yes, I have faith in him. I don't think he wants to kill anybody." Pete said, stubbornly.

"You're wrong," Sylar said, a cold smirk playing on his lips as he studied the three men.

"Go, get out of here!" Pete shouted.

For a moment he hesitated, but then Sylar turned and jogged away from the tent, darkness masking his path. Pete stared after him, looking torn as if he wanted to follow.

"Are you sure that was wise? He was like I was back then, but worse. Peter here says he has numerous powers, including regeneration," Gabriel explained.

"Yes, trust me. He will be back, I saw it." Pete said, smiling up at Gabriel. "He's stuck in the darkness, just like you were. It's not impossible for him though. He's getting tired."

"How do you know?" Peter asked. The two Peters looked at each other, taking in their similarities and differences. Peter noticed the other man's ponytail, his scar, and the black opal ring that matched the one Gabriel wore. Both Peters stared openly as Gabriel looked on, fascinated.

"Because I helped him once, and I can do it again. He needs us," Pete said, confidently.

"Pete, he may not be ready to stop. He seems a little like a loose cannon," Gabriel commented gently.

"Just give me a couple of days. Let's go back to the apartment, I have to show you what I did this morning," Pete explained. "Peter, you can stay with us for a few days."

"He has the key already," Gabriel said with a slow blush rising up his neck and face.

"I know," Pete said, smiling knowingly. "I saw that too!"

"Oh God," Peter groaned, holding his head in his hands, connecting the dots. "Please don't say you drew it, and please destroy it if you did!"

Their warm laughter pierced the darkness just beyond the tent where a shadowy figure stood, listening.

End of Chapter Four


	5. Chapter 5

Adjustment

By Chezaswulf

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.

Author's Note: Hey people, I really love Sylar. I don't know what you people think but he is my favorite character. He's awesome sexy crazy, and able to kill anyone he wants. If that isn't awesome I don't know what is. lol jk...

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><p>Sylar followed the trio to an apartment far from the broken shack they had come to in. He watched himself, Gabriel, smiling naturally. It was strange and made Sylar's mood darken. The way he walked with Pete, not touching but close enough to brush against each other in an intimate way, made him nauseous. Peter walked slightly behind them, watching them with varying degrees of acceptance and disgust. Sylar empathized with him. The sight of them together was so out of their own characters that they couldn't help but cringe at the idea of themselves being a couple. Peter was straight as an arrow, and Sylar was proud to say he was not interested in a superhero. He just wanted victims.<p>

The men walked into the apartment as thought they were all close friends already. Sylar sneered up from the stairs as they stepped in and shut the door. They didn't even bother locking it.

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><p>When they got into the apartment it was mid afternoon, and Peter was firing questions at the two men like he was a reporter for the evening news. This place was so strange to him, and he was trying to piece it together. Apparently some unknown man had cause the blast in the middle of the city. Peter had an inkling who the unknown man had been.<p>

Then the conversation moved on to the drawings that Pete had done. He pulled them out to show Gabriel while Peter pretended to look out the window. Then he pulled out another picture, of Sylar, pulsing with blue lightning all around him, his face a grimace of pain.

"This is the future? Sylar doesn't usually go ballistic, besides his normal killing sprees," Peter said, skeptically.

"Sylar is only human, despite his body's ability to heal, he is still affected in here," Pete said, pointing just above his ear.

"I guess you're right. I was thinking, do you think this is a different dimension, like on Quantum Leap or something? I feel like everything is so familiar but not, and everyone is here, like a strange mirror world..." Peter wondered aloud.

"Stranger things have happened," Pete said, with a shrug. He didn't seem overly concerned about how strange this whole thing was.

Pete offered Peter some clothes, and Peter returned the baseball hat to Gabriel, who brushed his hand against Peter's as he took it back. Peter pulled away as though burned, and put as much distance between them as he possibly could, which put him on the couch in the living room.

The afternoon moved slowly to a close, and Pete went to his room to change his clothes. Peter noticed that even his casual clothes were expensive looking.

"I thought you had work today, Gabe," Pete said. "You'll have to call them tomorrow and explain."

"I was a little busy," Gabriel mumbled, his ears reddening.

Peter found a magazine with the news and paparazzi fodder for the week, and thumbed through it. So many faces were familiar to him, that he almost felt like he was really home. Finally he pushed it away and tried to rest his eyes for a little while. His migraine was slowly receding.

The clock slowly moved toward evening, and Peter watched Gabriel subtly flirt with Pete while they put dinner together with a small knot in his gut. There was something very wrong with the picture of him and Gabriel. It must have been written all over his face because Gabriel glanced at him and then away quickly.

"You must find it odd that we are together," Pete said, empathetically.

"No...! Please this is your house, don't mind me," Peter insisted. "I just know Sylar, so it's hard for me to understand."

"Yes, he is frightening," Gabriel shrugged. "Don't worry, I don't bite. Hard."

Pete laughed and stood to go to the kitchen. Soon the smell of chicken wafted out as Gabriel set the table.

"How did you guys meet?" Peter asked, hesitantly.

Gabriel paused as he put the napkins out. Peter watched him, trying to find the Sylar within, and unable to see it. This Gabriel just looked like a skinny young man with a little bit of attitude. Gabriel straightened under Peter's gaze.

"Are you afraid of me?" Gabriel asked, eyebrows raised.

The kitchen was oddly silent besides the sound of oil crackling, and Peter thought for a moment. It was hard to look at Gabriel and not see Sylar. The face was the same and Peter was struggling to get past that. Sitting there in his own apartment with the familiar furniture around him, made Peter almost comfortable, and he was determined not to be.

"You look like him, and after what he put me and my family through, I can't help but... " Peter said, uncertainly. He shook his head as if to clear it.

"Hate me?" Gabriel asked. His wore a pained smile on his face that said he understood. "When I met Pete, I was trying to kill him too. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was sick, and Pete stopped me. I came to understand that sometimes healing means to stop fighting so hard."

Peter couldn't speak for a moment, his mind on Nathan suddenly, unable to move lest he lose his control. His eyes began to fill and he blinked several times. Gabriel put down the silverware and walked over to him slowly, like approaching a wild animal.

"Nathan is somewhere in Sylar... I thought I accepted it. That Nathan was gone, but I still see him in Sylar sometimes. I am connected with him, but I hate it so much, it kills me," Peter mumbled, wiping his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Gabriel asked, moving his hand to Peter's face and touching it gently.

"Sylar killed Nathan, and my mother made a huge mistake. She had a telepath put Nathan's memories into Sylar... and now Sylar is both Nathan and himself. Mad, lost, and carrying my dead brother inside him!" Peter clenched his teeth, breathing hard.

"I'm so sorry, Peter," Gabriel gasped, his eyes wide with sympathy. Gabriel looked down at him and Peter felt comfort in those large brown eyes. They were magnetic.

Peter tried to stop his tears but he couldn't help but be reminded of all the terrible things that had happened.

"Gabriel, please prepare the string beans," Pete requested from the doorway of the dining room, then he entered and put the glasses on the table.

"Gabriel is very sensitive. Please don't hurt him by talking about the past. Gabriel is not the man that did those things, and he loves us," Pete explained softly.

"I didn't mean... to hurt him. It's the truth," Peter said, wiping his eyes with trembling hands.

"I understand. You also need time to heal... I didn't think you would be so emotional. I suppose you could say that I have a certain amount of distance from emotions," Pete said, shrugging. "It's part of my abilities."

"Really? So you can't fly?" Peter asked.

"No, I never acquired that particular power," Pete said, elusively.

"Oh..." Peter said. He was really wondering what other powers Pete might have, but didn't want to pry.

"So where you're from you are a nurse?" Pete asked.

"Yes, my parents were against it. I guess I rebelled a little, I just wanted to choose my own career and help other people," Peter said, uncomfortably.

"Oh, I see," Pete studied Peter with a wrinkle between his eyes. "I understand that. Our family is very interested in status and appearances."

"How long have you been working at the tent? You're a doctor right?" Peter asked.

"Yes, I didn't want to be under their thumb either. I suppose our parents are the same in both worlds," Pete smiled. "So Sylar must be pretty much running rampant in your world."

"Yes, he's a menace," Peter agreed. "All of us tried to stop him once, Hiro, even Claire..."

"Ah, who is Claire?" Pete asked.

"Claire..." Peter's mouth fell open. "You didn't hear about her?"

"No, should I have?" Pete asked, tilting his head to the side.

"I guess not. Let's just say she's got the power to regenerate. Sylar stole her power, and that's why he can't die," Peter explained, trying to avoid revealing Nathan's indiscretions.

Pete seemed to sense his skirting the truth, and studied Peter's face closely. Thankfully Gabriel interrupted them.

"It's ready," Gabriel came back out suddenly, holding a bowl of rice and another bowl of green beans.

They sat down to eat, Peter keeping silent as Pete spoke about the hospital and his patients that day. He talked like a doctor and Peter found that very strange to hear out of his own mouth. The meal was delicious, and Peter was surprised to find that he enjoyed it. Peter made an effort to forget about Sylar for a moment, and tried to figure out who this Pete really was.

Just because Peter and Pete had the same face, didn't mean they were the same person. Peter was just now beginning to realize that. The composure Pete had was strange. Peter had never been that calm, Nathan was the one with the cool demeanor.

Pete spoke in a soothing voice, and he was almost robotic. It was eerie to see himself so in control. This man was not the runt of his family. He seemed more like an only child, used to getting his way. Peter watched with interest as Pete led Gabriel in conversation as though he was the domineering one in the relationship. In a way it was satisfying, and Peter felt an chill go up his spine.

Peter refocused on his dinner then, and hurried off to the guest bed room. The other two bid him goodnight politely, and he lay on the bed with a exhausted sigh. His migraine had lulled to a dull roar, and he put his arm over his eyes.

At last the soft murmur of the voices in the other room helped him to fall asleep. When Peter finally got to sleep, he dreamed. In his dream he was chasing somebody, up a tall stair case. They were just ahead, and when he got to the roof he saw Nathan there. Nathan stood on the ledge facing Peter, and then just as Peter stepped up toward him he started to fall. Peter screamed his name but Nathan continued to lean back further, falling past the edge. Peter screamed for him to fly but he didn't. Then when Peter got to the ledge he was gone.

Peter woke up screaming Nathan's name, the darkness of the room confused him. He took a deep breath to scream again, disoriented. When the light went on he was blinded for a moment, but he screamed anyway.

"Calm down, Peter! It's alright! Look at me!" A man's voice said. The man held Peter's arms, and shook him.

"Nathan! Nathan!" Peter cried, hugging the man tightly. His brother was alive. His brother was alive. "Nathan!"

"Peter!" Another voice called, painfully familiar.

"Open your eyes," the man said.

Peter did as he said, and locked eyes with his own face. It was a moment of clarity that snapped him out of his clinging dream completely.

"Shit!" Peter said. The reality stung.

Peter looked at Pete and then at the Gabriel at the door.

"Get out!" Peter screamed.

Gabriel turned and left, his expression surprised and hurt. Peter immediately regretted it.

"I should go, this isn't going to work out," Peter said, shakily.

"No, you should stay. At least until morning," Pete said firmly. "I can help you."

"What can you do to help me?" Peter asked, the bitterness in his voice choked him.

"I can heal your mind," Pete said. "You will keep your memories, but it will help you come to terms with the things that are most painful."

"Heal my mind? How?" Peter sat against the wall.

"I am able to work and manipulate chemical imbalances and correct them," Pete said. "It's hard to explain but I can numb the pain enough that you can at least get a good night's rest. It can be as potent as anesthesia or similar to taking advil. Just a little adjustment to take the edge off."

Peter leaned his head back, thinking about it, wondering what it would be like to just not feel.

"No... thank you, but no. I need to feel this, because if I don't mourn Nathan, then who will? I can't let go of my pain that easily. It's disrespectful to Nathan," Peter said.

"I understand. Then how would you like some tea?" Pete said, getting up smoothly before Peter could answer.

"Um, sure. Thanks," Peter said, following Pete into the kitchen. Gabriel was not around, and Peter felt a pang of guilt.

"You're hurting. He understands," Pete said, acknowledging Peter's glance around the room for Gabriel.

"I need to find Sylar, before he kills anybody. If you can't help me I can find him myself," Peter said.

"I can fix Sylar," said Pete.

"Fix Sylar? Is that even possible at this stage? He's killed so many people. He killed his own Mother! He said so," Peter said, outraged.

"You don't understand my power. It's able to fix people. Just give me a chance to help you," Pete said. "Tomorrow we will go and find Sylar."

End of Chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

Adjustment

By Chezaswulf

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.

Author's Note: I really enjoy Zachary Quinto's acting as Sylar. He is really sexy. He also plays Spock in Star Trek. So cool! Squee! fan girl attack! :)

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><p>Sylar didn't need sleep because his brain could still function well with or without it. If his eyes got tired and the nerves were burnt out they repaired themselves and he kept going. That was one of the things that made him one of the most wanted men in the United States, not that the general public would know his name. The ones who knew him were the ones that mattered, those with talent. Sylar sought them out as he wondered through the new place he had been sent to.<p>

Sylar liked walking the perimeter of destruction around the site of the explosion. It brought him inspiration to cause mayhem and destroy lives himself. The peace he felt as he passed a giant cinderblock from what had been a skyscraper was almost euphoric. The feeling didn't last long and soon Sylar was searching again, for the ones who were in hiding, the special ones.

In the early hours of the morning he discovered someone who thought she was alone, a middle aged woman, talking to herself under her breath. Just as he approached her she took a step into the brick wall of the building she was walking back and her foot slipped through it like air. Sylar watched as she slipped into the building through the wall. When he went to the door to the building he realized it was locked. He moved his hands above the knob and used his telekinesis to turn the lock. The door swished open electronically.

The woman stood there staring at him in shock that he had gotten through. Sylar registered her height, stance, and age and took her out easily. In no time he extracted her power and killed her. He stepped out through the wall just to try it out, and felt the static of the air when he went through the wall. It was an odd sensation, but not painful. Satisfied, Sylar decided to go find a place to rest that would be secure.

For some reason he thought of the shack that he had come to in, with Peter. It had been a terrible place to live in, but he felt reassured there. Somehow he knew Peter wouldn't go there again, and so he turned away from the waking city, and returned to the grim horizon of the crumbling section of New York.

Sylar tripped through the path of debris, but eventually found his way back to the small box of a house. He wondered if Peter would think to find Sylar there, and hesitated to go inside. There were more people around him now, but most of them were sleeping. Sylar figured he had at least an hour or two to rest. If someone owned it he would kill them.

Sylar fell into a light doze and kept waking up every time he heard the slightest thing. His hearing was constantly waking him up, but he would make sure it was nothing before falling asleep again. The sun rose without incident and he managed to get a few hours of sleep.

When Sylar woke up he was very irritable. He wondered what was wrong with him. Usually his moods were relieved by killing, but he was oddly out of sorts. Perhaps the strange trip to this place had affected him more than just physically. The tiny house was beginning to make him claustrophobic and Sylar almost destroyed the place to escape it.

The light of the sun further aggravated him and Sylar made his way blindly, not sure what was wrong. He had never felt so horrible before, not even when he tried to kill himself. At that time he had been sick of waiting for something to happen, and had decided to take action. Now he wasn't sure what he wanted, all he knew was that he hated this world, and all of the people in it. He decided he was going to kill them all at once.

Sylar stumbled into the area where the hospital tent was, and stopped. It was completely unintentional to return there, but it was already too late. He saw Peter with his two little friends, as if they were waiting for him.

Sylar's electricity surged through him with a wave of blue lightning and he growled in frustration. He had not meant to do that, but it was just pulsing out of control. This had happened once before, when he was still trying to get out of Nathan's memories.

"Sylar! What are you doing?" Peter asked, tense and ready for anything.

"He's losing control!" Gabriel shouted.

The people in the tent had realized something was happening, and they started to gather at the entrance facing Sylar. Pete turned to them to tell them to escape through the other side with the patients that could move.

"Sylar, wait! Don't do anything rash!" Peter begged, hoping to buy some time.

Sylar tried to respond but he couldn't stop shaking with the effort to contain his rage, confusion and all the terrible things that kept him on his deadly mission. The pain was always there beneath the surface, but now it was like the door had unlocked, and it was being unleashed all at once. His anger was coming out with his powers, and the ability he could control the least was the most helpful in expressing it.

"I can't! Stop!" Sylar screamed, falling to his knees on the dusty road, both hands filled with blue light. He screamed wordlessly as the electricity tore at his muscles before he could regenerate.

"He's gonna blow!" Gabriel shouted. They all stepped back from the electric currents coming off of Sylar.

"I have to stop him," Pete said, stepping forward.

"No!" Peter argued.

"It's too dangerous! Pete!" Gabriel cried, trying to stop him.

"I have to do this, Gabriel. I'm sorry," Pete said, turning to face the man clad in black, on his knees in the clearing.

With one large step Pete closed the distance and wrapped his arms around Sylar, and they were both engulfed in the lashing electricity. Pete was silent as Sylar continued to scream, blood now flowing from his nose. Peter wasn't sure if he was bleeding because of the electricity or something else. It seemed like the blue lightning was getting stronger and more dangerous now, and Peter shifted on his feet. He didn't want to help save Sylar, but he knew that if he didn't do something they were all going to die.

"Can you take my powers Gabriel? Can you fly? I need your help!" Peter went to Gabriel and offered his hands to the other man. Gabriel glanced over to Sylar and his lover and grimaced.

"Yes," Gabriel said, grasping Peter's hands, taking in his power. "What should we do?"

"We have to carry them up, it's the only way to save these people!" Peter said.

They ran together to the other two men, and lifted up together, each supported the weight of their own double and flew into the sky as high as they dared to go. The blue electricity exploded out all around them, sizzling and whipping the air. Peter slowed as they held on, and the sensation of electricity and another power shot through them. They were too close not to be affected. Then a feeling of peace hit him and Peter almost faltered in his concentration. It was hard to refocus on flying but he managed, since it was natural to him. Gabriel was struggling to stay in the same spot, and began to sink a little. It was his first time using flight.

"Gabriel, concentrate! If we fall I'll die! I don't know about you guys but I can't regenerate!" Peter said, desperately.

"I know," Gabriel said, clenching his teeth. His hair was whipping around his face, and he looked terrified.

The sky was hazy and slightly damp where they were. Peter was hugging Pete, and couldn't see his face, but he saw Gabriel and Sylar. Sylar was still bleeding, and his eyes were half opened, his skin extremely pale. Peter hoped the man wouldn't try to throw them off and get him killed.

Pete's power was still pulsing through all of them, but was focused on Sylar, and his mind. It seemed like a battle of wills was happening, and they were all sweating.

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><p>Pete could sense the others when they lifted them up into the sky. They were all connected with his powers, but he was struggling to repair Sylar from his trauma and hurt. This was not the worst he had ever dealt with, in his years at the hospital with criminals and serial killers, but it was one of the more guarded minds. That made it hard for him to interfere and take over the impulses going on in Sylar's mind. The healing that Sylar could do was helping Pete make progress though. That was a good sign. Sylar wasn't that different from Gabriel after all.<p>

Sylar was able to see how things worked and he was beginning to understand unconsciously what Pete was trying to do. The healing was all chemical, and Sylar's body was accepting the help, even if Sylar himself wanted to stay the same. Pete knew that people fought because it was natural to keep the pain rather than lose it. They clung to the things that made them who they were when they really didn't need to. Especially if it made them a menace and landed them in jail for decades. It was easy and familiar to cling to pain, but ultimately useless.

Sylar's mind seemed to relax all of a sudden, and the struggle stopped. Pete noticed a slightly different chemical that didn't belong and he neutralized that too. It seemed like a pain that hadn't been acknowledged was gone.

Pete smiled, as he began to get it right. Nobody resisted for long, because the temptation to release the pain was the best feeling, if they could accept it.

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><p>Peter was shocked when both Pete and Sylar went limp in their arms and were out cold. Gabriel and Sylar squeezed in closer to support each other, and the two unconscious men.<p>

"Hey, what the hell happened?" Peter asked Gabriel.

"Don't worry, this is how Pete's power works," Gabriel explained, looking at Pete, unconcerned.

"If you say so," Peter said, nervously. He studied Sylar's white, bloody face and then looked at Gabriel doubtfully.

"Let's go back," Gabriel suggested. "My arms are gonna break!"

"Ok," Peter said.

Peter wasn't having trouble, but he worked out a little every day, and lifted people on a daily basis. Gabriel was clearly not used to manual labor. They slowly made their way down, trying to see through the thick dirty clouds where the tent was for a safe place to land. After ten minutes they found it and landed a little bit harder than Peter prepared for.

"You ok?" Peter asked.

"Yes," Gabriel said, a little annoyed.

Peter laughed, because Gabriel was so used to being spoiled by Pete that he couldn't tolerate a little teasing. Gabriel pouted, but tried not to show it, and Peter tried to stifle his amusement. It was hard not to like Gabriel, because he was clearly in love with Pete and could not see past Peter's face.

It was strange to sense Gabriel's affection. Peter hadn't had a lover in so long that he was feeling a little vulnerable, and Gabriel made him nervous. Men were not in his strike zone, but unfortunately that didn't stop Gabriel from trying to flirt with him. Peter jumped when Gabriel touched his arm and smiled a charming smile at him.

They carried the two men into the tent one at a time, hiding Sylar in a private section with a barrier around it. After his electricity show the people at the tent were likely to recognize him. After a while, Pete woke and Peter allowed Gabriel time alone with him to make sure he was alright. He sat beside Sylar, studying him fervently. Peter wasn't sure what to expect of the man, but if Sylar even glared at Peter, he would strangle him.

End of Chapter 6


	7. Chapter 7

Adjustment Chapter 7

By Chezaswulf

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.

Author's Note: Hey I know I wrote this quickly, but I just finished watching Heroes on Netflix and I'm just so sad to see it end. Of course you could tell that the show had run out of steam and the plot was thinning and too many characters were changing. I really am glad it ran its course and I plan to watch the entire series over again! The first season was awesome and I really loved it. So here is my tribute to my two favorite characters, lovely Peter and sexy Sylar! Hehe. I'm so obsessed. Hope you enjoy.

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><p>Peter woke up suddenly, and the first thing he realized was that Sylar was missing from the bed. In a mad scramble he knocked over his chair and ran from the small enclosed area to find him. He wasn't anywhere inside the tent, and Peter had a bad feeling that something had gone wrong. On his way out of the tent he knocked into someone coming in, Gabriel.<p>

"Hey Peter, I was just coming to wake you," Gabriel said.

"Where's Sylar? Did he get away?" Peter asked. He tried to flatten his hair that was flying all around his head wildly.

"He's right there, don't worry. Pete's with him," Gabriel pointed to two figures talking in shadow at the side of the tent. Gabriel didn't appear to mind Pete talking with Sylar.

They didn't seem to be fighting and Peter watched them talk for a moment, trying to see their faces. They two men turned and saw Peter there, and one of them stepped away to meet Peter half way.

Pete smiled as he approached and patted Peter's shoulder.

"I found the man who sent you here, with Sylar's help. He will get you back to the place where you belong. It's been strange Peter," Pete said.

"You found him? That's great. Who is he?" Peter asked, wondering at how that could be possible.

"He works in the hospital tent, so it wasn't very hard to find him. Turns out his brother isn't dead here at all and he doesn't know Sylar either. Now if Sylar can just avoid meeting that man again, we can all avoid these unplanned adventures," Pete said, seriously.

"Thank you, Pete," Peter said, smiling. He didn't know how he could have turned out so different than what he was, but it must have something to do with his family. "Tell me, do you have an older brother here? I mean, is Nathan here?"

Pete looked over at him, and seemed to think about it for a moment. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone and dialed a quick number. Then he handed Peter the phone.

"Hello, Pete?" Nathan answered. "Hello? Are you pocket dialing me?"

For a long moment Peter couldn't speak but then he took a deep breath.

"Nathan," Peter breathed out, finally.

"Pete, how's the tent? You should really get back to a real hospital, it's just not right you being out there. By the way, Ma is having dinner tomorrow, don't forget," Nathan rattled on.

Peter was so happy to hear his voice that he just found himself nodding automatically, searching for words to keep Nathan talking.

"Listen Nathan, I wanted to tell you..." Peter felt his voice shaking and took a breath. "I love you, Nathan."

"Wow, that's a first. You never get choked up. This must be the end of the world, Pete!" Nathan laughed.

"I'm serious!" Peter said, a little mad now.

"I know. I love you too, Pete," Nathan said. "I'll see you later."

"Bye," Peter said. He shut the phone and wiped his eyes, unable to look at Pete.

"He's going to think I'm losing my touch," Pete said with a forgiving laugh.

"Thank you, for everything," Peter said.

"You're welcome. Listen, please take care of him," Pete said. "I know he's... done many terrible things, but he's got no one else."

"I'll do what I can," Peter said, glancing over to look at the man in the shadows who was pretending not to listen to their conversation.

Sylar stood back giving Peter room, and Peter walked up to him finally. Sylar's face had a hollow look and he was studying Peter curiously, as though comparing his memories of Peter to the real thing. He clearly didn't have the burning personality of a killer anymore, and the tension in Sylar was gone.

"Thank you," Sylar said, with an awkward shrug. He didn't apologize and Peter was grateful for that, because he wouldn't have been able to forgive him anyway.

"You're welcome," Peter said, aware that Pete and Gabriel were eyeing them with interest. "Do you feel different?"

"I feel good," Sylar said, frowning. "I want to go back to my Father's store."

"You're Father had a store?" Peter asked, feeling slightly impressed.

"Yes, I fixed watches. It was... fun," Sylar said, stiffly.

"That sounds like a good idea," Peter replied, fidgeting a little.

"Do you think that they will come find me?" Sylar asked, worried.

"Who?" Peter asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Bennett, or Parkmann?" Sylar said, in a distant voice. He seemed to be remembering things that had happened that he couldn't quite connect with. "They won't understand."

"Don't worry. You can stay under the radar as long as you keep your day job," Peter said, with a shrug.

They stood there silently for a long time, as though waiting to say more. Finally Pete approached them with an older man who looked different from the image of the night they had been sent by him. They said their goodbyes to Pete and Gabriel, wondering if they would ever meet again. Peter doubted it. The man glanced at the two of them and then led the way to a secluded alley. For the second time they braced themselves and were sucked into a vortex that was uncomfortable to say the least.

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><p>They were back in New York as they had known it, but this time they were conscious when they got there. It hurt just as much as the first time they travelled through dimensions. When he recovered a little Peter smiled at the city, taking in the smell of pollution that he usually ignored and the noise of car horns and people. It was good to be back.<p>

Sylar looked unruffled by the trip except for the beads of sweat running down his face. He stood staring around, his hair flying around without his black cap to keep it down. Peter felt a strange jolt of companionship to him, that was completely unexpected.

Peter thought for a moment that maybe the whole thing was a dream and this was the real Sylar. For a moment he was afraid that Sylar would kill him, and he got a feeling of deija vu.

"Are you alright?" Sylar asked.

"Fine," Peter said, sweating. The feeling of illness from the dimension travel had obviously been worse than he thought. Peter felt the world go dark around him.

* * *

><p>Peter woke up to the sound of a cuckoo clock, and his head thrummed along with the sound. He looked around and noticed a huge collection of clocks, of all sizes and colors, all around him. Sylar sat in a chair beside the bed, examining a small clock with thick glasses perched on his nose. He glanced at Peter when he sat up.<p>

Peter felt the cool air all around him, with appreciation. His migraine had faded and he was feeling much better. Peter stood up from the couch and his head swam slightly. Sylar ignored him as he pulled out a watch from his pocket and then offered it to Peter. It was Peter's cheap sports watch, which had obviously broken during the dimension switch.

"Here, it's fixed," Sylar said, handed it to Peter. He glanced at Peter finally.

"Thanks. For helping me, when I passed out," Peter shrugged. It was odd to look at Sylar, with glasses.

"Listen if anybody does come to give you a hard time..." Peter started, and then he stopped not certain what he should say. "Don't worry. I'll let Bennett and Matt know..."

"No, it's fine. I deserve their wrath," Sylar said.

"You did." Peter agreed.

"I'm not a hero," Sylar told him. "But I can fix your watch."

"How much do I owe you for it?" Peter asked, glancing at the watch.

"Nothing! I have to clean this mess up, and figure out what to do with this place," Sylar said gruffly. "I have to pay the electric bill, I haven't been here in months."

"Do you mind if I visit?" Peter asked, awkwardly. It was definitely going to take a while to accept that Sylar was not a killer anymore. He didn't know if he believed it even then.

"You want to keep tabs on me?" Sylar asked, his voice indecipherable. He stared at Peter, without judgement.

"I want to make sure you are alright. But if you don't want me to..." Peter trailed off, shrugging. Sylar had changed so much inside that he appeared to be much younger than he had before. He looked at Peter with haunted eyes, the memories of their experiences together were there like an elephant in the room.

"You're kindness is baffling, Peter. You shouldn't help me," Sylar said, smiling a little.

Peter didn't deny it, but watched Sylar carefully. There was a glimmer of hope in those eyes, that was undeniable. Peter smiled back.

"If you want to keep track of me, just take this. I'll have to pay the bill first though," Sylar said, rummaging into his desk for something. He pulled out a small white card and handed it to Peter. "But first I have to clean up this mess!"

"Ok, I will. Just try to keep your head down, alright?" Peter said, a little irritably. He didn't want to have to fight Matt and Bennett after all.

"Peter!" Sylar called.

"What?" Peter turned back.

"I just wanted to tell you that he's gone." Sylar said, pointing to his temple. "Pete fixed what Matt did... somehow."

"I see..." Peter said. "Thank you, Gabriel."

Peter walked down the street, back to his own life. He was sure that his mother had left several messages about him missing family dinner the other night. Peter sighed as he walked, remembering Nathan and feeling nostalgic about his brother even as he was happy for the sad feelings that came with the memories.

The END! Review already lol.


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